A Few Words Before the Opening of “Bagel Bites the Musical”

Alright, everyone, gather ‘round! Hurry, only five minutes to curtain! Join hands and enter “the energy circle.” That means you, too crew!

Now close your eyes, find your breath, and center yourself. As director, choreographer, intimacy coordinator, caterer, and star, I’d like to say a few words before the world premiere of Bagel Bites the Musical.

They said it couldn’t be done. That it was one note. One thirty-second song. They said the stage was no place for a microwave. But I said, “When pizza’s on a bagel, you can have pizza on Broadway!” And now the haters are gonna eat their words like a saturated fat-soaked afterschool snack. It’s like I always say: you can’t have Grease without a little pepperoni!

I want to thank all of you for your sacrifice and dedication. What a journey it’s been. Some of you probably didn’t think you’d make it this far. From grueling rehearsals that stretched from morning to evening to suppertime, to the weight gain from method eating—you’ve arrived fully cooked and saucy as hell.

To Rebecca, my leading lady. My Fantine. Do you remember when we first ran our showstopping, open-mouthed kissing scene? And how draining it was to baby bird a piping hot Bagel Bite each time we frenched? And how, after your brief nervous breakdown, you finally accepted that this is the best you can do in life? Don’t you think every exhausted mother in the crowd, serving their children pizza on a bagel at 8:30 AM because just maybe it will shut them up for ten minutes, won’t see themselves in you?

Remember, the bagels are bite-sized—not the roles. This gloriously gory, gluten-packed story is only as strong as its weakest link. I’m looking at you, Braxton. For the last time, do not aggressively suck air while chewing—I don’t care how lava hot that mouthful is. I swear, if you fuck this up for me, your dancing career will go from backup bagel to toast.

People, don’t forget why you do this. Why you found yourself on the wrong side of midnight on a stage slick with blood, sweat, and, sausage slime. Remember the joy you feel watching the sunrise knowing you can have pizza anytime.

You can’t lose a crowd that wants to be found! Go out there and see these people. Then show them the very essence of themselves. Remind them that all it takes to make the world go ‘round is a spinning plate inside a microwave set to HIGH for two minutes. Then show them those 120 seconds for three radiant hours of theater inappropriate for children under the age of 18.

The microwaves are shining bright on Broadway tonight! The world gave us a dry mini bagel, but we topped it with marinara, melody, and sexual meats. Now all that’s left is to move the bowels of the theatre. Remember, after the final curtain falls, let them sit and cool off for a full minute. It’s a lot to take in. The slurs. The raw sensuality of mozzarella mixed with full frontal. The final bloody bagel ballad. It needs to be savored.

Places, everyone! Go out there and burn a tongue!

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